Mysteries of Love
by xlnthands
Summary: Companion piece to Puzzles of the Heart. Rated M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**Mysteries of Love**

Sequel of Puzzles of the Heart

A/N I really suggest that you read Puzzles of the Heart first since I wrote that first and have no way of gauging whether or not this one makes sense without Puzzle being read first. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, please read and review and let me know if you see any errors or mistakes or stupidity. :) This is basically the going over the same time period and events as my previous story but from Bobby's POV.

Chapter 1

Nelda Carlson. John Tagman. And Nicole Wallace. Nicole Wallace again.

I have been obsessed with my partner since we first met.

Initially, I didn't know what to make of my new partner. She was experienced, self-assured, by-the-book and she was tiny. I could see right away that she was intelligent and street smart. She was politically savvy too which was something that I envied. She could have the brass eating out of her hand and charm the DA without breaking a nail. She was also the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

In the past, my tastes had tended toward tall, leggy brunettes with smoky eyes and short attention spans. But Alex was this diminutive Goldilocks with a punch like a seasoned boxer and a pistol range score card that most cops would sell their mothers for. She could not only keep up with me on the job but she could follow my logic too. We became closer and meshed together like a well-oiled machine. We improvised well as we questioned witnesses. Interrogations were like enthralling tango dances, with the two of us flitting effortlessly back and forth, trading the good cop bad cop routine until our suspect broke.

Eames' sense of humor was ribald and sarcastic and she was constantly cracking me up. I think sometimes she was even doing it on purpose.

Everyday, I couldn't wait to get to work. I told myself that it was the job. Hey, Major Case right? Doing what I love doing, something I'm good at. Truth be told though, it wasn't the job that had me up early running to her favorite coffee shop. It wasn't the job that had me bribing other cops to hand over the last bag of Skittles that had slid down the chute of the vending machine. It wasn't the job anymore at all, it was my partner.

The worst of it all was that as time went on and she meant more and more to me and I tried less and less to get her to notice me romantically. Stupid huh? But I just couldn't risk seeing the empathy and sadness in her eyes if she ever knew how bad I had it for her. I became afraid.

When she first told me what she was going to do for her sister, I was really touched. I mean who does that for someone else? It really takes a special person. I thought it was great but I didn't think about all the contingencies. It surprised the hell out of me when Alex said that Deakins would assign me a temporary partner. It hadn't occurred to me that she wouldn't be there.

I tried the best I could to take good care of her while she was pregnant. Once, I noticed that she neglected to put her seat belt on when we were in hot pursuit. After that, whenever we were together, I put it on her myself.

It finally hit me when she started dating the accountant that she would never really be mine. I couldn't blame her. Being pregnant probably made it crystal clear to her that getting involved with another cop after Joe would be a mistake. An accountant keeps regular hours, an accountant always comes home at night. The accountant probably had less baggage that me to carry around.

Finally, when Alex was ready for maternity leave, I met my new partner. Bishop was young and eager and a little cocky. She was chomping at the bit, wanting to make sure she made the most of her shot in Major Case. She wasn't sure at all if I was going to help or hinder her with that. For myself, I enjoyed working with Bishop. It allowed me to be in charge, to call the shots. I even got to drive. But I missed Alex. There were times when I couldn't help pointing out things that Bishop missed that Eames would have picked up on. I now realized that Eames was the best partner I could ever have and the best friend I had in the world. I realized that not only was two out of three not bad but that I was a fool to think I, Bobby Goren would ever win the Trifecta and could never hope to have that amazing little woman's love also.

I resolved to distance myself as much as possible from her when she came back from having the baby. I was going to keep our relationship very business-like, professional. Our very first case together, however, found me dancing a mambo around Alex after the Merry Widow left the room. I was acting like a high school kid trying to impress the cute girl in chemistry class. I had told myself no more offers of lunch or drinks after a case but that didn't stop me from saying yes eagerly every time Alex ask me.

I also pretended not to notice how depressed she seemed after having the baby. Most of her friends and family noticed too and she was flooded with care and concern. Even though it killed me inside, I thought it best with my newly minted pragmatic attitude, to let everyone else try to comfort her during this problem.

Her post postpartum depression worried me less frankly, that the obsession she seemed to develop for regaining her figure after the baby. I watched helplessly as she lost all the weight and then some. I wondered if she ever caught on to the extra cream I put in her coffee or the increased number of bags of Skittles that ended up on her desk. I was just trying to say that she looked great the way she was. It was just trying to make her stop.

When the Ray Garnet case came along, I was struggling. My mother's illness was getting worse. Her medications caused her to be restless and irritable. She was calling me at all hours demanding I fire her doctors or produce Frank immediately. One night she got a hold of some poor nurses cell phone and called me at three in the morning. She begged me come and make her Zabaione, her favorite dessert. She had taught me to make this when I was nine years old. it's a custard-like dessert served with figs. Its made with eggs, sugar and wine and it has to be whipped for what seems like hours. She would whip for a while and then hand the whisk and bowl to me when her hand got tired. She always thought it tasted better when I made it. She said it was because I whipped left handed. Interestingly, Zabaione is the dessert an Italian bride is supposed to serve to her groom on the wedding night to give him enough energy to conceive lots of children. All that sugar and wine is probably why it was Mom's favorite.

Then during the course of our investigation, our attention turned to Nelda Carlson. My mother taught me to be a gentleman. Once Frank and I were taller than her, she would whack us upside the head if we didn't open the door for her. As a child I learned how to gauge my mother's moods. What set her off and what and who she responded favorably to. I became a student of the art of charm and flirtation. In my case, they became just more tools in my arsenal of survival. As I got older, of course, I figured out that these techniques could be applied to others, especially girls.

I hadn't been kidding when I told Elizabeth Hitchens AKA Nicole Wallace that I had spent time chasing coeds. I had been pretty focused on girls in the Army as well. Not much else caught my attention in those days until my unit was ask to investigate the murders in Korea that led me to working with Declan Gage. He became my mentor and showed me that it was possible to take a crime; or any set of circumstances and turn them on their edge, look at them from a different perspective. He taught me that putting a case together by following the clues could only take you so far. If you ran out of clues, you ran out of case but by psycho-analysis you could jump ahead and anticipate the next clue. You could get inside the perpetrator's head and then it was possible to not only figure out why he had committed the crime but what his next move would be and where he would hide the evidence.

Needless to say, this set me on fire and once back in the states, I joined New York's Finest and quickly made a name for myself in Narcotics. I had good reason to join the Narc squad; drugs had already stolen my brother's career and, even at that time, the shit was keeping him from helping me with our Mom too.

When we began to question Nelda Carlson, she merely struck me as a nice soft-spoken young woman and seemed very direct with her answers. All that changed when Alex left the room to take a call. She asked about my knowledge of the drugs prescribed for depression, she offered to help do some research for my mother's case and she tried to stroke my ego by implying that Eames might be inept and inefficient. I saw through her technique and tested it out by leaving Alex and the woman together as I left the room to make a call. Sure enough, Nelda was busy while I was gone trying to sow seeds of doubt and suspicion in Alex's mind about my future sanity. The bright smile and conspiratorial look on Alex's face when I told her that Nelda had been trying to pit us against one another literally made my heart do a flip in my chest. It felt so wonderful knowing that she was completely on my side.

What most people don't realize about murder is first of all, most of time its done by someone the victim knows. Secondly, you gather evidence and figure out what sort of knowledge the killer had to possess to commit the crime. When you start looking at who in their circle of acquaintances may have that knowledge or ability, the list can get very short, sometimes it only leads to one person.

By the time we made it back to One PP, I had already decided it was worth the time to find out more about Nelda Carlson.

Spending time with Nelda was an experience. And not one that I would care to repeat. The experience taught me something about myself and it wasn't a pleasant lesson.

I have always found it effective to get close to a suspect. I look for ways to invade their physical space and also to find a window into their emotions. Nicole had taught me that getting that close also meant the suspect could then see the chinks in my own armor as well. She was as adept at pushing my buttons as I was at triggering hers.

With Nelda, I could see that she was using my weaknesses against me and I allowed her to do that to trap her. What I didn't anticipate was being blind to the moment that feigned interest began to spill over into real regard. I found out that it wasn't possible to allow a suspect to get that close to me without risking getting too attached myself. Having someone to talk to about my mother; someone to pay a compliment to; these were things I had lived without since that very first day in Major Case.

Once I put the cuffs on her, Nelda pleaded with me to let her go to Barry. She asked me how I could do this to her when she knew I cared for her. She said she had seen it. I told her, I hadn't meant for her to see it, but I had. It had been my plan all along.

I lifted my gaze over to where Alex stood. Her mouth was open and she was staring at me. There was no hope that she hadn't heard or had not understood what was said. I could clearly see now that I had acted in a way that was beneath me. I felt ashamed. I had hurt this woman who was sick and needed help and by getting too close I had hurt myself as well. It made it worse knowing that Alex saw it too.

Once back at One PP, I looked for Alex but her purse was not hanging from the back of her chair and her coat was gone from its hook. I had lost the chance to try to explain. As I grabbed my coat to leave, I knew deep down that even if I had found her, I would have never had the guts to tell her how much I appreciated how different she was from Nelda, how much I loved her integrity and honesty, how much it meant to me to live up to her example. There was a reason that she was senior partner and this case was an example of why.

One of our next cases brought us even farther apart and I wasn't sure we would ever find our way back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/N As I said before this story makes more sense if you read Puzzles of the Heart first. Please read and review and let me know what you think, good, bad, or ugly. :)

Working with Declan, going over and over the copious amount of photos and material he had of his cases taught me to inure and detach myself from the bodies, from the blood spatter, the bits of strewn-about brain. I learned to separate myself from the gore of the brutal murders that we investigate. The case of John Tagman was no exception.

When you are dealing with a suspected serial killer, even a small delay might cause another life to be lost. Once Eames and I pegged Tagman as our suspect, we bent the rules a little to get inside the man's house. The search convinced the two of us we had found our man but we discovered precious little to impress Carver. At that point, something Alex had said about Tagman clicked in my head; the guy was as shy as a kid in short pants. Maybe the way in with this guy was as a mentor or a big brother type. I had already seen all the empty beer bottles at his place and knew the guy was struggling with his nature. Real serial killers don't drink a lot, why should they? Their killings are moments to shine, they are crowning achievements, something to be remembered and savored like the memory of a touch down pass caught long ago. John Tagman was a sick man but he wasn't exactly a serial killer in my book, at least not yet.

I got a meal voucher and went to Tagman's in the guise of offering an unofficial departmental apology for the guy's false arrest. I watched him struggle to make eye contact with me as we talked and I listened to him stammer out his order to the waitress. The kid was so shy that it was hard to believe he had ever made it through school alive. I got him talking about picking up women and saw that he was anxious to know what to do but couldn't really bring himself to ask for advice. I asked him if he knew why he was drinking so much and his answer surprised me. He said that he didn't think it was possible for a man to know himself or to explain himself to himself. He was saying that a man isn't capable of judging his own actions or the motivations for those actions.

We went back to his apartment and while Tagman was getting me a glass of water, I found the guy's porno stash. He was upset when he got back from the kitchen and found me watching one of his DVDs. This was another revelation, this guy was enamored with the idea of intimacy which was another thing that differentiated him from a serial killer. Those types of criminals are all about forming connections too, but they are looking for ways to make the victim connected to them. They aren't interested in being connected to the victim. In other words, the victim isn't seen as a person to share intimacy with but rather as an object to be owned, used, enjoyed and sometimes consumed.

That's when it hit me exactly what John was trying to do and why. Again it was Alex who had figured it out first. He was trying to create a living doll. The first victim's death had been unintentional. The very last thing John Tagman wanted in the world was for Amanda to die. He was merely looking for someway to remove a woman's objection to him, to remove her need to reject him. I understood this need, it was something I had been searching for with my mother since I was seven years old.

The Captain, Alex and I met with Carver to insure we had enough to bring John in for questioning. That was when Carver revealed the fact that he intended to make this a capital case. Carver and I had butted heads before over his degree of charge in cases before. When we arrested Father Mc Shale for murdering his own son, Carver had even threatened to have my badge if I ever interfered with his case after arrest again. Well, we hadn't arrested John yet and it was wrong to convict a guy of cold blooded, pre-meditated murder when that had never been his intent. Afterall, isn't that what we were supposed to be doing here? Determining criminal intent?

Alex and I entered the interrogation room and it went text book. We used the reverse photo to trip John up. We got him to lie enough to satisfy Carver and then we got up to leave. Why didn't I tell Eames what I had planned? It was simple. I told her ahead of time what I was going to do with Nelda Carlson and it had turned out all wrong. I was afraid. Here I was thinking I was right again, but this time I wasn't going put her in the position of covering for me. This time she would be just as surprised as Deakins and Carver of the left turn I was about to take.

After I obtained Tagman's confession, walking into the Observation room felt like entering a meat locker. I expected to see my breath there was so much ice emanating from the three people inside. I said my piece quickly and left. At that moment, I neither knew nor cared how much damage I may have just done to my career.

I was raised Catholic but I read the books about the life of ole _Mr. Sid Artha _and I understood the Buddhist concept of karma. Carver was on speaking terms with me again as we sat initialing and signing the endless forms that are needed before a case can be released for trial, but our conversation was very much to the point and extremely civil . When the call came through about Tagman's murder, it was impossible not to wonder if this was, in fact, karma in motion. I think, perhaps Carver wondered the same thing. I know I did. I wondered if karma had sought revenge for the lost and damaged lives John was responsible for or if, just maybe, karma had sought to release John to his next life because he had finally learned his lesson in this one. That lesson may have been the lesson of true remorse.

The bar nearest to the station was already filling up as Alex and I found stools down near the end of the bar. I knew Alex hadn't approved of my defense of Tagman. I knew she didn't understand and I couldn't understand why she had asked me here. Her apologizing for not comprehending my motives was the last thing I expected but after I thought about it for a moment, I was really ashamed at my surprise. At every turn, Alexandra Eames proved herself to be a person of impeccable integrity and this time was no different. She took hold of my hands and was caressing her tiny thumbs over my palms. It was the most intimate contact we had ever shared. I have to admit to losing track of the conversation at that point. She was saying something about Carver being overzealous, I didn't care. Her face was solemn and intense with her obvious regret and she was heartbreakingly beautiful.

I smiled at her because just knowing that I hadn't screwed up this time and knowing she was again on my side was more than enough. My hand moved forward of its own accord to stroke a lock of her hair back behind her ear. My brain reeled and for the space of a few seconds I experienced the strange sensation of a split personality; one side of myself indulging in the silkiness of her hair and warmth of her skin while the other side of my brain stood back in shock at my own behavior not believing in my own audacity.

"Thank you, Eames." I murmured close to her ear I and allowed myself one final luxury by trailing my lips ever so softly across her cheek. I left without a backward glance, too much of a coward to stay and see the results of my actions.

On Sunday when I saw her number on my cell phone I weighed the reasons she might be calling before I answered. Was there a case? Or had she finished compiling the list of all the names she wanted to call me for my behavior at the bar? Should I answer or not? My mother taught me that a classical education is never wasted. I found the solution in Latin; Audaces fortuna iuvat. Fortune favors the bold. I pushed the answer button on the phone.

"Eames?" I held the phone tentatively as if it might bite.

"What are you doing?" She asked. I laughed nervously. Did I really want to tell her what I was about to do? Bobby Goren going to see Breakfast at Tiffany's on his day off could be the next water cooler joke around the station on Monday morning. Then I got an idea. She couldn't joke about it if she came with me.

I waited for her outside the theater, pacing restlessly. Why had that Nickels guy suggested I see this movie? What had possessed me to asked Alex to come? Why in the world had she said yes? The autumn air was still warm and I watched a slight breeze chase leaves and loose paper around the eddies created by the buildings and spaces in between. I loved this time of year. As a kid, the start of a new school year in the fall meant more time spent with my friends and less time at home. It had always been the summertime I dreaded the most.

I caught sight of her as she came around the corner from the parking garage. She looked like a catholic school girl in her plaid skirt and white blouse but those boots were definitely not something approved of by the pope.

"Why, in God's name, are we seeing Breakfast at Tiffany's?" She asked as she walked up, a sarcastic smirk on her face.

"You figured it out, huh?" I held the door open for her and got to see the skirt from the other side. I made a mental note to chalk one more possible personality disorder to my list; masochistic tendencies. Why did I torture myself this way?

"Well, considering they only have three movies playing here and I don't think High Plains Drifter or The Godfather Part II are considered chick flicks, it was a fairly easy assumption."

There were only about a dozen or so other people in the theater so we had our choice of seats. "Thanks for the popcorn." Alex said popping a piece in her mouth and offering me a handful from the container.

As the movie started, I battled with age old dilemma of where to put my arm; leave it pinned at my side or slide it more comfortably around her seat or put it where I wanted it, around her shoulders. I finally opted for putting it on the seat. When the movie reached the Moon River number, Alex scooted closer to me and let her head fall back onto my arm. A deep sigh escaped her lips.

"Isn't that still just the prettiest song?" She asked.

The movie was over all too soon and I talked her into going for ice cream. A big gust of wind came along and blew a playbill onto her leg where it lodge in the top of her boot. Being a gentleman, I leaned down to get it for her. My fingers touched the inside of her thigh just above her boot. I felt rooted to the spot, feeling her smooth skin, breathing in the scent of her. She smelled like jasmine, autumn rain and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies all rolled into one. I felt the urge to throw her over my shoulder like some Neanderthal. I stopped myself but only because I didn't want to get shot. I stood up and looked into her face. Did I imagine the color I now saw in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes? I repositioned her scarf, giving me another opportunity to touch her. This was dangerous. I could feel the heat rising to my face. The best cover I could think of was to start running. I pulled her along with me the next two blocks to the ice cream parlor.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

All that next week was like a dream. No new cases came up. Our lunches were spent tasting each other's entrees which meant I had an excuse to focus my attention on my partner's mouth. We testified in court and helped Carver with his convictions which put me back in his good graces.

Our next case started out as a detective's dream, a quarter of a million dollars jewelry heist in broad daylight right out from under the jeweler's nose. The Asian woman and her male accomplice had parted company in a subway station, the male for a ride to the ME's office and the woman for parts, as yet, unknown.

We followed the clues along their logical path until we came to the dress shop across from the thief's latest jewelry heist attempt. As I stood in the dressing room looking out the small window across to the jewelry store, I felt a shiver of something. I knew then that there was something more in play here. We weren't looking for just a silent partner, we were looking for a puppet master. Whoever had set the Asian woman and her accomplice in place had also planned the murder down to the last detail.

When I came back out of the dressing room and listened to the saleswoman tell us of her customer's funny comment, I could see the shock on Eames' face but I wasn't at all surprised. This was something that was right up her alley. Nicole and I knew how to push each other's buttons and I can't deny a certain amount of sexual chemistry between the two of us but I had meant what I said to Carver after we finished the anthrax case. I was done with Nicole. I was done playing the game of tit for tat. Our next meeting and our next interrogation would be different.

We arrested Ella Miwasaki and played the tape of Nicole's last interrogation to try to show her a side of her lover that she hadn't seen before. I said before that Nicole can push my buttons and listening to the tape was difficult for me. I don't like remembering how it was to be that seven year old boy trying to deal with his world tilting out of control. I also hate listening to myself force Nicole to look at the abuse she suffered as a child. I hate seeing what became of that sparkling little girl.

When Ms. Miwasaki's lawyer entered the room, Eames and I stepped out of the interrogation room and I saw Nicole was in one of the interview rooms. I wanted to discuss our strategy but Eames took off like a shot and even my long stride left me hard pressed to catch up to her. I couldn't help but to suppress a smile as Alex stationed herself right in the opening of the doorway but went no farther. She was keeping me out of the room.

Nicole could see Alex was keeping me out of the room on purpose. That was when she decided to needle Alex by mentioning her pregnant state during her testimony.

"Speaking of cradles" Alex said with venom. "It looks like you robbed one." Indicating Ella's age.

I stepped past Alex and entered the room. She had nothing to fear. I wasn't going to overstep with Nicole again but I was curious. I could feel something coming from Nicole. Was it distraction or fear? She was definitely more agitated than I had ever seen her. Alex hit the nail on the head again when she brought up the letter written to Ella's parents and the fact that Ella now knew about the letter. Somehow, some way, Nicole cared very much what Ella thought of her. It was a level of attachment we had never seen in her before. For the first time, we had leverage. Nicole always had a lover but she discarded them like used Kleenex when they were done serving their purpose. I sensed the case with Ella might be different.

Later in the investigation, I followed a hunch and had the authorities in Australia search their records for any birth certificates showing Nicole Wallace as mother and hit more than I bargained for. They also sent an accident report saying the little girl had been swept out to sea three years later while under the care of her mother.

I know that Alex was still concerned for me as we worked this case. I caught her watching me and I could see the evaluation going on behind her eyes. I had harbored hope that Nicole could be redeemed. She was an intelligent and beautiful woman. I should have remembered that everyone around Nicole dies eventually. I shouldn't have been surprised that the one person who most needed Nicole's love and protection had been laid waste to also by the insanity that was her mother.

We brought Nicole back in for questioning. Eames and I set her up by allowing her to push Alex out of the room with her snide comments again about her surrogacy.

Nicole tripped me up during the interrogation enough to respond to her comment about the two of us not fated as the type of people to have children. I have hopes, I really do and they were not the sort of thing I wanted to share with Nicole Wallace. I doubled my resolve to keep myself out of her emotional reach. I didn't move into her space, I didn't get in her face. I stayed on my side of the room and kept things strictly professional. As I brought forth each piece of evidence contradicting her previous statement, Nicole continued to try to improvise a plausible explanation, a believable lie. I finally backed her into an emotional corner by suggesting that Nicole had killed her daughter because she began to see her as a sexual rival.

We rushed into the abandoned warehouse where Ella and Nicole had agreed to meet but we were too late. There was blood everywhere. They pulled Ella's body from the river. She was dead, by Nicole's hand, no surprise there, but there was no sign of Nicole. I looked carefully at the scene and left in disgust. I could think of many ways Nicole Wallace might be willing to die but jumping out of a warehouse window while strangling the life out of the lover that she also thought of as her child was not one of them. The scene looked staged and I could still feel Nicole in the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

WARNING THIS IS THE MATURE CHAPTER......my favorite, lol

A/N Thanks for all the great reviews so far. Please let me know what you think of this one, too.

I went home that night feeling strangely keyed up. I paid some bills, put away a load of laundry and cleaned out the dust buster. I felt anxious for no reason, like you do right before an earthquake hits. I felt like there was something I should be doing but couldn't remember what that something was.

I sat down on my couch and put my face in my hands, shielding my eyes from the light. I thought about my partner. I thought about Declan Gage and how he had taught me to try to look at things from many different angles. I realized I had only ever looked at Alex through one lens, the lens of my insecurities. I wanted her, I loved her but since I never even hoped to win her, I had never once thought that she might want me. I thought about Alex's behavior, her body language, her smiles, her frowns. I tried to see it all from a different perspective. I got up and grabbed my coat and keys. Maybe I _was_ crazy, but tilting everything between us for the past four years on its side made me hope that, maybe, just maybe the great detective Robert O. Goren had been the biggest fool of all.

I got to her house and saw her car in the driveway and let out a sigh of relief. I could just imagine if I had driven hell bent for speed over here only to find she wasn't home. I rang the bell but got no answer. Maybe she's in the bath, I thought chuckling. Would she leave the TV on like that if she was in the bath? I knocked on the door. God, what if she's with some guy? I sat down on a bench on the porch and rubbed my hand over my mouth. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't imagine Alex leaving the Medical Examiners office and then calling some unknown boyfriend over for a roll in the hay. The lights were on in the kitchen too and the flickering light in the living room seemed to be coming from the fireplace. I started to get that creepy feeling between my shoulder blades like something bad might have happened. I took my keys out of my pocket and found the one she gave me once just in case she ever locked herself out.

I entered as quietly as possible. I didn't draw my weapon but I felt the heft of it in my pocket. Nothing seemed to be out of place, no sign of a struggle. I could see in the kitchen and living room, no Alex. I glanced in the open door of her bedroom, I closed my eyes briefly as I turned the light on but no one was there. Both bathroom doors were open with the lights off. Where the hell was she? Then I heard a muffled bang from below my feet. If she was in the cellar, wouldn't she have still been able to hear the door?

I reached the cellar door and stopped to listen. There was definitely someone doing something down there. I had been down in the cellar before and knew that the stairs creaked if you stepped in the middle of the steps. I crept down as quietly as I could but I needn't have bothered. There was Alex with her head stuck half way up the furnace flue. All I could see was her bottom half which was only covered by the skimpiest pair of shorts I had ever seen. I sat down on the bottom step and propped my chin up on one hand. It didn't even occur to me then to ask what she was doing, I was just admiring the view. She was singing a song as she worked but the tune was lost in the echoes of the flue. The previous years dust would occasionally rain down as she worked.

I finally found my voice and asked if the furnace was broken but with disastrous results. I had startled her as she was backing out of the contraption and she banged her head a good one.

I swore under my breath, pulled her under the light to get a look at the damaged I'd caused and apologized profusely.

"I forgot I gave you my key." She looked up at me with a small smile on her face, her tawny eyes swimming in the unshed tears from the pain.

She was wearing a tee shirt that had seen better days. There were streaks of red and blue paint across the chest and one arm and there were smudges from the furnace dust, as well. The shirt also appeared to have been acquired from sometime before she was pregnant as the letters spelling "_I heart Derek Jeeter!!" _were pulled tight across her chest. Needless to say I found the picture utterly enchanting and could feel myself actually leaning in to kiss her.

What am I doing? I am a selfish bastard! I had her head between my hands covering her ears. I let them drop to her elbows and propelled her in front of me up the steps. Karma took its revenge on me then as I got a very good look at those incredible shorts as they climbed the stairs in front of me.

I got us some sodas and an ice pack for her head in the kitchen. I also stuck my head in the freezer for a little while. It wasn't exactly a cold shower but it helped some.

I apologized again, feeling like such a dope. I had come over here hoping to play Benedict to her Beatrice, Romeo to her Juliette and instead ended up playing Dr Kildare and not very well. I cocked my head and studied her for a moment, she wasn't being her old self. I would have expected a dozen wisecracks by now. She was being very quiet. Maybe she just needed me to get her started. "What are you doing running around in shorts anyway, its freezing outside?" I tucked a nearby blanket around her. "You know, Eames, I don't think I've ever seen you wear those shorts before."

My trick seemed to work, not only did she give me a saucy answer but she took the ice pack from me as well. When she went into the hall toward the kitchen, I followed behind, only knowing I didn't want to be away from her. She caught sight of the smudges of dirt on her face in the hall mirror. I was mesmerized by the picture the two of us made standing there in front of its reflection. I didn't want anything to ever bother or distress her again. "What," I said. "Its just a little dirt." I turned her to face me and brushed gently at her nose and at her hair.

I saw a darkening in her eyes as she looked up at me, her lips parted. Her hands had come to rest on my chest, her fingers playing with the open collar of my shirt. I let my own hands explore her face, her ears, her neck.

"What, Alex?" I asked her. Saying her name, letting its sound play on my tongue like a delicate morsel. "What do you want, Alex?"

She raised one hand up to touch my cheek. I heard her sharp intake of breath when her fingers reached my face. I saw the timidity and questioning in her eyes. Every shred of self control I possessed at that moment broke. I pulled her to me, nearly lifting her off her feet. I wanted to feel every inch of her frame against me. Her mouth was like a banquet for a starving man, I could never get my fill of her, I would never be finished here. I could feel her body rise toward mine as her hands buried themselves in my hair pulling my mouth more firmly to her own. My head reeled with the idea of her pleasure.

I took hold of her shoulders and held them in my hands, marveling at how small and delicate they were. "Are you sure, Alex? I whispered hotly in her ear. "Are you sure this is what you want? Is it me you want?"

She pulled away from me, which set me in a momentary panic but I was reassured looking into her eyes. "Yes, Bobby I want you. I have for ages."

I was on fire but I didn't want to scare her. I also didn't want the night to end. This might be the only night I would ever have with her. I slowed down as much as possible, kissing her softly, concentrating on one lip and then the other and then looking for confirmation in her eyes. Her eyes were liquid, half closed with her passion. I couldn't hold out any longer. I heard a groan that I could barely recognize as coming from my own throat as I lifted her and pushed her into the wall. Her mouth was on my neck now creating a pathway of heat to the sensitive spot under my ear. I could feel those amazing breasts that had grown before my eyes while she was pregnant move against my chest. Her hands were busy with the buttons of my shirt but I had found something equally as interesting. My roaming fingers had located a rip in the seam of her shirt and the skin that I found there was so soft and feverish, I longed to put my mouth there, as well.

Alex was making noises of displeasure as she continued to try to remove my shirt. I helped but that caused her slip down the wall and hit the injured part of her head again. I felt my heart squeeze to have caused her any pain, not just the bump on her head but her having to watch me blandish Nelda Carlson or verbally spar with Nicole Wallace. I remembered the agony I had gone through watching Alex play up to the Napoleonic Mr. Jones. I also remembered the foolish delight I had taken in making fun of the man's possible penis size, knowing the whole time that Alex was in the Observation Booth watching.

I picked her up and decided the living room in front of the fire was probably a more romantic and safer environment to continue our explorations in. I stood her up on top of the coffee table, remembering it was made of solid wood. She was now just a couple of inches taller than me. The firelight created a halo of light around her body. I had thought she was beautiful before but seeing her standing proudly with all of that was in her heart written on her face was more beautiful than any impressionist painting, more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen. Correction, scratch that. She gave me another saucy smile, pulled off her shirt and bra and gave me my first glimpse of her gorgeous breasts. I felt the blood completely leave my head and did what any guy would do, I lost the rest of my clothes fast.

As Alex reached for the waistband of her shorts, I stopped her hands. "Stop. Wait, I just want to look at you." I raised her arms up and spun her slowly around in a circle. "I really like these shorts."

She smiled and caught her arms around my neck, burying my face between her breasts. I felt as though all of my senses were on overload. I could hear a log in the fire crackled as it fell apart in the grate and the soft moans she made as I began to explore her body, one mouthful at a time. I found a faint sickle-shaped scar on the inside of one thigh halfway up from her knee. I wondered how it came to be there as my tongue traced its contours. With a sigh, half pleasure and half exasperation she wove her fingers into my hair urging me where she most wanted me to be.

I spend almost every evening alone, reading. One night, I had fallen asleep over book of ancient Greek myths. My last thought, before Morpheus took me, had been how much Alex resembled the Greek Goddess Athena. Athena was the goddess of wisdom, reason, peace and warfare. She was known to have gleaming eyes and was also the inventor of the chariot. Another lady who liked to be in the driver's seat. I recalled all this as my mouth finally dipped toward her center and my fingers delved to the very core of her body. I looked up at her, my Alex, my Athena. "I want to watch you as you come for me." I felt her getting closer to the edge. The taste and smell of her was more intoxicating than any whiskey. Her sweet body reached its climax and I caught her in my arms as her knees weakened, her skin already covered in a fine film of sweat.

I sat back on the couch and settled her straddling me. "So you weren't kidding with Jones, were you?" Her face was a beguiling combination of seductress and imp as she took hold of my shaft.

I laughed. "No, and it made me sick to watch you flirt with him." I lifted up and eased into her, keeping a watchful eye on her as I did so. I felt her gasp as the tip of my penis grazed the roof of her cervix "Its okay, we'll take it slow until you get used to it." I murmured in her ear.

I wanted so much for this moment to last forever, but as we found our rhythm and I watched Alex near her own climax again, I lost control and went over the edge.

We lay by the fire still touching and caressing. She joked about our breaking the rules. One cheek was still streaked with dust and I teased her about her dirty face. I was already fantasizing about how the water would slough off her body leaving her glistening and damp. I jumped up and pulled her to her feet "How about that shower now?"

Alex tilted her head back in laughter but the smile left her face as she looked in my eyes. I could see a look of bewilderment there, as if she could scarcely believe we were standing here this way. I kissed and felt her responding, I also felt the tears that were coursing down her face. "Shhh," I told her, holding her head against my chest. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

I had been over to her house many times but had never ventured into her bedroom before tonight and I had never seen her master bath. The Jacuzzi tub was an older styled one, in other words, it was gigantic. A slow smile crept across my face as my over-active imagination kicked into high gear. "Oh, this is going to be fun." I said and then noticed that I appeared to be alone in my sentiment. "Wait, is this a Joe thing? Dammit, I knew I should have brought you to my place."

Alex moved to my side and told me that this was the place where she dealt with her emotions. I could imagine her reclining there missing Joe, crying over a lost child, fuming at me for some transgression. "Do you want to share it with me?"

The hot water combined with bath gel and something called a bath bomb made for an incredibly sensual experience. At one point, Alex stopped me as we were sending waves of water over the top of the tub. "Bobby, stop. I haven't finished water proofing the floor in here." She said helplessly but I didn't give in.

"Don't worry, I'll help you tomorrow. I'm good with my hands."

"Oh my God! Yes you are!" She cried.

******************************************************

I woke up in the morning with smell of the jasmine and vanilla bath bomb emanating from both of us. It smell heavenly and I also knew that even another shower would not completely erradicate the scent. I made a mental note to go heavy on the cologne before going into the precinct. I couldn't have been happier though, waking up with my arms full of Alex. I felt her stir and roll over, a smile on her face even before her eyes were open. She was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

I wanted to tell her what had brought me over last night, but I couldn't press my luck. My God, what ladder had I failed to walk under, what black cat had found another path other than the one in front of me. How could I have gotten this lucky?

"I'm really glad you're here." Alex said, her eyes clearly belying the triteness of her words.

I pulled her face to mine and kissed the tip of her nose. "Me too." I said lamely.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this story. I guess was having some problems this week. First I was not able to get on to update and then I received emails from several people with reviews that never showed attached to the story. So if I didn't thank anyone directly, that is the reason and I thank you all now for your kind words. I do have another new story that I will begin posting tonight called What's in a name? Its just a silly thought I had that grew to gigantic proportions. I think its funny and I hope all of you do too.

Four weeks later

I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and threw it onto the bleacher seat behind me. The day was warming up but it had been cold when we had arrived at the track early this morning. This was Alex's last day at the race school. Today was her big race. She and her crew were down in the pits with her car, going over every last detail of tire tread, oil pressure and signal communication. Every other morning, I had been right there with her but today I wanted to let her be, to know she was doing it all on her own. So I came up in the stands near the final turn to get a bird's eye view of the race. I also needed some distance from her. Seeing her wearing her racing suit was unexpectedly sexy.

I had been surprised that Deakins had been so understanding and uninquisitive about the two of us taking our vacations at the same time. Not that we mentioned that we were going to the same place, together, just the two of us.

The sound of revving engines began to fill the morning air disturbing a hawk who had taken roost on a grandstand light behind me. They were starting their warm up laps and there was Alex's car number 37. It was blue with gold trim. "Bobby that's my car! Cop blue with the first two numbers of my badge number." Alex had cried with excitement. Her instructor had told them both that Alex was a natural born race driver and that anytime she wanted to go pro he could find a spot for her. Alex had laughed and thanked him. I had laughed also but it had a hollow sound, even to me.

I took a sip of coffee and grimaced, the track coffee tasted like they had scraped it off the speedway. All the cars were back to their pits. It looked like this might take awhile.

I thought about our time together leading up to this trip. It had been the day before her birthday. I had been sleeping the sleep of the innocent in her bed when I was suddenly brought to a rude awakening by a mischievously wet Alex rubbing her dripping hair all over my face and chest. She was laughing hysterically.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that, missy." I grabbed her and threw the both of us in the shower with the cold water turned on full blast. I held her under the spray unmercifully until she had screamed enough to wake even one of Rodgers patients. The cold water was making her nipples as hard as two little stones which was having amazing effect on me. I shut the water off and spun her around, tangling my fingers through her hair. The feel of her wet body against mine made me forget all about getting ready for work.

"How come the cold water doesn't bother you." She pouted at me. Should I tell her how many countless nights I had dreamed of her sweet body laying exposed and pliant under mine? Could I really admit to her how when she gave me that sarcastic grin in the middle of a case that all I wanted to do was stop down and kiss her senseless? The past two weeks had been utter bliss but I didn't think that Alex was ready yet to know the true depths of my attachment to her. I made a joke about lots of practice and then showed her what she meant to me using the best tools at my disposal.

When Alex realized what I was giving her for her birthday, she wrapped her arms around my neck so tight, I thought she was going to take my head off. She had been telling me about this school and raceway in Watkins Glen practically since our first case together. She and her family made the pilgrimage at least once a year to catch the races and Alex had told her dad when she was ten that, one day, she was going to race there.

I watched her face as the conflicting emotions of wanting to accept the gift warred with her knowledge of how much it cost.

"Do you like it?" I asked not taking my eyes off hers.

"What's not to like? I've been talking your ear off about this school every spring." She leaned forward to kiss me.

"Well, there you go. Now, I'll finally get some peace!" I said, teasing her and ended up with a face full of feather pillow rather than a kiss.

My reverie was interrupted by the cars beginning to take their positions on the track. It was time for the race. The drivers were ready, the flag came down and they were off. I felt my heart in my throat. I knew they had trained her, I knew she had all the correct safety gear on, I knew that she was doing something she loved doing but I knew I wouldn't relax until she had crossed the finish line.

All through the race Alex stayed on the leader board. On the 15th lap she and another car traded paint as they came around the turn where I stood. _Jesus_, I swore, _well, what's one more gray hair?_

Alex moved into the pit for a tire change and then like a shot was back out on the track. Over the next 20 laps, she moved up from 6th to 5th position. She was having a hard time maneuvering around the 3rd car.

"Take your time, Alex." I said aloud to no one. Suddenly the 3rd car took the next turn too tight and spun out directly in front of Alex. Her crew chief relayed the information to her in time for her to climb the bank above the spun out car. I let out the breath I had been holding, just glad that I didn't have to sit through watching Alex take these kinds of risks everyday. _No, we just go around chasing dangerous psychopaths with guns everyday for a living. _I shook my head to clear it of these contrary opinions and again found Alex on the track.

The race was for 75 laps. They were on lap number 68 and she was defending her third place position and watching the top two cars for an opening to make her move. The second place car apparently forgot that there was anyone else in the race besides himself and number one because the next turn found him taking the turn too wide. Alex gunned it and took his position. She was now in second place with four laps to go. As each lap wound down Alex held her position but couldn't seem to find a time try to take the leader. I was shouting out loud as if she could hear me. On the very last turn, right in front of where I stood she made her move, she took the inside and blew right past her opponent. Alex Eames took the flag. "She is never going to let me drive now" I said to myself.

I made my way over to her pit, the crew and her chief were still pulling her out of the car. A bottle of champagne came out and was duly poured over the top of Alex's head as soon as her helmet was off. She screamed and made a grab for the bottle and tilted it against her lips.

"Bobby, I won, I won!!!" She was jumping up and down and then jumped straight at me. I caught her in my arms and she wrapped her legs around me. I was immediately consumed by the smell of racing fuel, and the sweet, sticky face of Alex kissing me. She then poured the rest of the champagne over my head.

I held her in my arms and just looked at this amazing woman. She had a grease smudge down one cheek and her champagne-soaked hair was hanging into her eyes but those eyes held a sparkle that could light the world.


End file.
